


Swimming Pool

by GirlonaBridge



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Memories, Older lesbians, Past Relationship(s), Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4342733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlonaBridge/pseuds/GirlonaBridge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A summer evening swim in Jocelyn's pool leads to many things, including some memories she and Maggie had both thought they had left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be a short sweet little thing about our beautiful older lesbians basically just going for a swim. However, it took on a life of it's own and went first rather sexy and then rather sentimental and delved deep into my headcanons about the pair of them. If you don't like any of these things I suggest you just read Chapter 1 which is where the original story would have finished.  
> I have finished this so will post updates quite quickly.  
> And I couldn't resist the title!

It is the first true hot week of the summer. The sort that turns Broadchurch into a postcard fantasy. Ice creams. Paddling. Lying on your back on the sands, sun baking through your clothes. Cool breeze on the clifftops. 

Sweltering in the glare through the train window, Maggie swallows her yearning. It is a crime, she thinks, to be anywhere other than Broadchurch on a day like today, a week like this has been. And she has missed it. Wasted the whole bloody beautiful week stuck in London which is a hell-hole in this weather. A large man with far too much skin on show barges down the aisle of the train, staggering as it sways. She could almost sympathise, almost envy him his shorts and vest if it weren't that he was so far from what she wants to see right now. When he brushes against her Maggie shudders, unable to contain her disgust. Gingerly, she peels her sweat-stuck arm from the plastic arm of the seat and rests it on her knee. Hotter. Great. She closes her eyes and a sigh escapes her.

It's not like her, this distaste for her fellow human beings. She knows she is being unreasonable. Cranky. That's what Jocelyn would say. An amused glint in her eye, no doubt, that insufferable little smirk. Maggie swallows hard. Tries to school her thoughts. Jocelyn herself would probably be pretty unbearably cranky if she was having to put up with this tin-oven-on-tracks right now, Maggie tells herself. A wave of longing that surges through her takes her by surprise. Oh it's been a long week.

-

Maggie starts to feel better as soon as she sets foot on the platform at Axminster but it's not until she gets out of the taxi in Broadchurch Harbour that she starts to relax. Now she can smell the sea and hear it as well as see the light-spangled waves; now she can turn and take in the shape and the feel of her adopted home town; now she feels herself again. She turns from side to side for a moment, letting it soak into her again. Just as she left it. A smile softens her face. Then she hefts her bag and sets off. It's daft, she knows, but she asked the taxi driver to drop her in the harbour and now she makes her way round to the far side, sets off up the cliff path. The sun is hanging a good way over in the sky. Strings of tourists are shuffling off the beach by now, even though the evening is still hot and there are hours of daylight left. 

Maggie pauses at the foot of the path to catch her breath and switch hands. She's being daft, coming straight here. She should have gone home first, dumped her stuff, got a shower. Already her feet are taking her uphill. Or she could at least have got the taxi to drop her round by the road, instead of trudging up here like a pack horse. Maggie shakes her head at herself. She wanted to feel the town first, the beating heart of it. She has loved this place ever since she came here and any time she goes away she always has to reconnect with it before anything else. Used to drive Lil mad, she reflects. Mind you, if they did things Lil's way and went home first then Maggie used to drive her mad anyway until she had made it in to town again. And Maggie is honest enough to know which one of them was harder to live with. Rueful, she shakes her head again. Water under the bridge now. Besides, there is a new nervousness these days to her returnings. Since Danny Latimer was murdered nothing has felt so secure. If that could happen here, if even Broadchurch wasn't safe... It's always a relief, just to know it's ok when she gets back.

A teasing little breeze blows Maggie's fringe in her eyes. She pauses to swipe it back. The wind is blissfully cool, just as she knew it would be up here. There's almost always a bit of wind, something to ruffle the sea, keep it alive and rolling. The very rare day that is completely still disturbs the whole town. 

-

But there is nothing disturbing about today. It is a perfect summer evening as Maggie strides the last few steps and swings open the gate to Jocelyn's garden. Below her in the lower part of the garden, the swimming pool glistens blue and cool and Jocelyn herself looks up at Maggie from the edge of it, eyes wary as she assesses who it is.

'Well.' Maggie drops her bag. 'You are a tonic.' 

Jocelyn's face lights up. A sight that further thrills Maggie. She trots down the steps with more energy than she has had all day, barely taking her eyes off Jocelyn. 

'Join me?' As Maggie reaches the edge of the pool, Jocelyn pushes off backwards, floating out of reach, leaning back in the water. Maggie looks long at her. She knows her hunger must be written all over her, she can tell by the quirk of Jocelyn's eyebrow that she is enjoying it. But she makes no effort to hide it. It is one of her new favourite pastimes, making Jocelyn feel how much she is wanted, showing her how it is to be loved by a woman. And it's not difficult. Especially not when Jocelyn is lying back in a black swimsuit, arms and legs elongated by the effect of the rippling water, hair slicked back. 

'Join you?' Maggie raises her eyebrows. 'In what? I mean,' she gestures at her outfit, 'I can hardly come swimming like this.'  
Jocelyn drops her eyes, examining the white shirt and loose linen trousers. Her lips purse. There's a glint of an idea in her eye but Maggie cuts her off before she can voice it.

'I'm not skinny dipping petal, not out here.'  
Jocelyn pouts. Maggie can barely contain her smile.

'What would your neighbours say? Your hoards of visitors. You still haven't got a lock on that gate.'

Jocelyn snorts at the suggestion of hoards, but her pout dissolves into a soft smile as she continues to gaze at Maggie. Maggie sighs, a deep, happy exhalation that cranks her shoulders an inch lower. They both know that skinny dipping is a joke but she is strongly tempted by the pool. If it comes to it, she reckons she can strip off and swim in her underwear, something she hasn't done since... it must be decades. It's not the most comfortable but it is decent and she has a strong hope that she won't have to get dressed again properly until tomorrow. And the water does look very enticing, not to mention Jocelyn. She is distracted from her thoughts as Jocelyn twists and kicks out languidly, sliding up to the edge of the pool and tilting her head in invitation.

'Hello.'

'Hello you.' Maggie drops to her knees and leans down to drop a kiss on her lips.

'How was the conference?'

'Not too bad. Made me feel a right dinosaur. Interesting though.'

'And London?'

'Awful.' Maggie doesn't mince her words. 'Not even you could love it in that state.'

'Don't you believe it,' Jocelyn counters, but without bitterness. She stretches closer and automatically Maggie responds, leaning over and opens her mouth for a softer, lingering kiss. Jocelyn breaks away by dropping back into the water.

'There are a pile of swimming things in the cloakroom, second drawer down in the big bureau. Go on.'

Maggie shakes her head. 'You're not expecting me to get into one of yours I hope.' She is already heading for the house though.

'Oh don't be ridiculous!' Jocelyn calls after her.

-

Inside is suddenly dark and still. Maggie knows where she is going and quickly finds the right spot. She is amazed, on tugging open the drawer, just how many garments come spilling out. It looks like nobody has cleared anything out of here for fifty years. Maggie riffles through, discards several things she considers too skimpy, an ancient pair of men's trunks that must have belonged to Jocelyn's father, and something that looks positively Victorian. Then a flash of colour catches her eye. Her stomach lurches.

'It can't be,' she mutters to herself. But in the Knight house nothing ever gets thrown away and it very much can be. Slowly, she draws out a simple one-piece swimming costume and holds it up. Several shades of blue and white form a distinctive dappled pattern. It looks slightly dated, though Maggie would be hard put to say why exactly. The elastane still seems to be good though and, holding it against herself, she realises that it will probably still fit. She wonders if Jocelyn will remember.

-

When Maggie steps outside again the light has changed, a deeper gold haze infuses the garden. Jocelyn is swimming, dipping her head in the water with every stroke, arms pulling with surprising strength, legs long underwater. For a moment Maggie forgets everything else and watches her. Jocelyn reaches the far end and turns, striking off without pause. She spots Maggie at the top of the steps and breaks rhythm, keeping her head up for a stroke or two, then kicks hard, slides sharply forward with her face in the water and her fingers grasp the near edge. Maggie goes down to her. 

'You found something.' Jocelyn's voice rings with satisfaction. Her gaze glides up Maggie's bare legs with obvious pleasure. 

'I did.' Maggie keeps her eyes on Jocelyn's face. She sees the exact moment recognition hits.

'My God.'

Maggie sits on the edge of the pool, lets her legs dangle, feet slip into the water, past her ankles and up her calves.  
'Ohh that's bliss,' she sighs. 

Although she is right beside her, Jocelyn moves closer still. She rests her hand on the concrete sill, inches from Maggie's leg.  
'I didn't realise we still had that.' Her fingers twitch.

'It's funny,' Maggie gently covers her hand with own, 'I'd forgotten I ever lost it. I think I'd forgotten I ever had it! Until I saw the pattern.' She looks down and realises that Jocelyn is searching her face, trying to read her reaction. Maggie offers her a small smile. Jocelyn blinks. Emboldened, she slides her hand from Maggie's to trace her forefinger along the edge of the swimsuit where it arches over her hip.

'I've never forgotten you wearing this.'

Maggie's eyes widen. 'Jocelyn, it was...'

'Fifteen years ago. I know.' Her voice is quiet, serious. Her hand splays across Maggie's thigh.  
Maggie doesn't have anything to answer that so she slips into the water.

'This really is lovely.' She buys herself time by changing the subject. It's a conversation they can come back to, one they have been eking out in drips and drabs, ever since that first kiss, that first admission. Recasting the history of their friendship in the light of their shifting relationship. Maggie ducks her whole head underwater. The cold closes over her, sears her hot scalp. She comes up shaking water in every direction, her eye screwed tight. She has to scoop her unruly hair out of her face before she can see. Jocelyn laughs suddenly at the wet spectacle of her and the sudden splashing. Maggie grins back. The moment lightens.

-

Maggie tests her arms in the water and kicks off the side. It's been a long while since she last went swimming but by the end of the length she finds her stroke. On the way back she notices that Jocelyn is watching her. She doesn't stop but when she turns again she senses Jocelyn fall in beside her. They continue this way for some time. Jocelyn is the stronger swimmer but she matches her pace to Maggie's. At each turn their eyes catch. Once or twice their hands brush in the firm business way of swimming. The world recedes and there is nothing but the cool, clean swirl of water, the strain of muscles, seagulls keening in the distance.

-

After ten lengths Maggie rolls over onto her back and floats. It is only a short pool but she is out of practice and glad to relax. She stares up at the sky, striped with fine fingers of cloud that catch the deepening amber and orange light. When she rights herself, Jocelyn is leaning against the edge, watching her, with a strange look on her face. Maggie moves over to her, instinctively hugging the edge as well. She studies a drop of water that trickles from Jocelyn's hairline, making a long journey down her neck and shoulder then plunging into her swimsuit, out of sight. Maggie swallows. She is aware of the shift in tension. It is almost eerily familiar. Made stranger too by the fact that these are memories she had almost forgotten she had.

It was important to her once, gathering minute observations about Jocelyn like these, assessing the intimacy of shared events like swimming in the sunset, wondering if her quite open appreciation of Jocelyn was appreciated or even noticed. There had been one particular summer with a lot of lucky weekends that Jocelyn managed to get down from London. Hot like summers are in nostalgia. Walking. Fishing. Swimming. Hours of floating or lying around this pool. Talking. Always so much to talk about and hear and share. Arguing of course. The thrill of an intellectual challenge that no one else in Broadchurch could provide. There had been Jocelyn's work to reckon with, and her strange silences, her habit of disappearing into herself. She had always known there was a lot of Jocelyn she didn't know; they were women over forty for goodness sake, there was far too much in their lives to discover all at once; there was a lot that Jocelyn didn't know about her either. But Maggie had been so sure she knew where they were heading. And one evening, just like this, close in the pool.

'I was so sure you were going to kiss me that night.' Maggie turns towards Jocelyn - it's hard but the journalist in her will never let her say hard things without looking the person in the eye. Jocelyn starts.

'I was,' she says so quickly the words seem to fall out of her mouth, surprising her. 'How did you know?'

Maggie has to laugh at that. How could she not know?

'I really didn't think you remembered all that.' Jocelyn drops her head. She looks small and uncertain. Maggie just barely shakes her head at her. For a woman so intelligent, so brilliant, she really has no idea.

'You were wearing dark red. With a crossover bit.' Maggie closes her eyes. Somehow the moment had passed. 'Your hair was longer. Not so curly. You said you had to get back to work the next day.' Jocelyn had let it go. Turned away.

Maggie opens her eyes and meets Jocelyn's. She looks sad. Gently, Maggie lifts a dripping hand and touches her face. 'See, I do remember.' 

Jocelyn leans forward swiftly, catching Maggie's lips with her own, opening her mouth to Maggie. Serious. Certain. Maggie responds hungrily. All her earlier longing for Jocelyn returns in a rush of desire that makes her cling to the concrete edge of the pool that is holding her up. She makes a small urgent noise in the back of her throat that makes Jocelyn kiss her even deeper.

'I'm going to do that every time we swim together,' Jocelyn declares when they stop kissing long enough to speak. It's a small statement but heavy with meaning that makes Maggie's heart glow. She takes Jocelyn in her arms and kisses her again briefly.

'Sounds like a plan.'


	2. Chapter 2

A stronger breeze rustles down the garden and Maggie shivers. 

'Is it time we were getting out?'

'Oh not yet.' Jocelyn is unaffected, merely dipping her shoulders in the water and dropping her head so she is shielded from the wind. 'You've only been in a minute. Not cold are you?' There is a tease in her voice though she keeps her face deadpan smooth. Maggie purses her lips ruefully. This is revenge. Water is the only place Jocelyn doesn't feel the cold.

Jocelyn bobs slowly backwards, holds her arms out. 'Swim. That's what you need if you're cold.'

Feigning reluctance, Maggie kicks off again, reaches for her. But Jocelyn keeps moving, a seamless, effortless float that speaks of implacable control. Every time Maggie thinks she has got within grabbing distance, Jocelyn drifts just out of reach. By the time she has enticed Maggie all the way around the pool, she is looking exceedingly smug and Maggie is breathless. 

'That's it. I quit.' Maggie flounders to a standstill. She had forgotten how much of a water baby Jocelyn is. 

'Sorry.' Jocelyn, smirking upwards through her eyelashes looks anything but sorry. But she is immediately beside Maggie again. Under the water, she rests her fingertips on Maggie's hips.

'Will you stay tonight?' Her voice is light. She's not uncertain but she's not fully confident of Maggie's response either. Still.

'Love to.' Maggie runs her hands up Jocelyn's arms and squeezes them to communicate her certainty. Jocelyn's whole face lights up.

'Then you may get out.'

-

Maggie lets her go first up the ladder. She enjoys watching the way Jocelyn moves with her body as free as this. She makes full appreciation of Jocelyn's figure in her swimsuit and makes sure that Jocelyn can read her pleasure on her face when she turns.

'Oh you.' Jocelyn reaches for her old swimming towel and rubs it roughly over her arms and legs. Maggie keeps watching, unabashed, and she thrills to notice Jocelyn sneaking glances at her. All too quickly though, Jocelyn wraps herself in a robe and holds out the towel towards Maggie. As Maggie pulls herself onto dry land again, she realises that Jocelyn is returning the scrutiny. The look she catches when she raises her head heats Maggie to the core. Their fingers brush when Maggie takes the towel and they both linger over the contact. Jocelyn stands watching Maggie for a minute more, arms crossed, lips pursed. Then she turns towards the house.

'I'll get you another towel, that one must be soaked.'

Maggie looks up in surprise. She is about to call out that it's fine really, but Jocelyn is already stepping through the open French windows. Maggie finishes drying herself off as well as she can and scrubs at her hair. The towel is pretty damp but she wraps it around herself anyway. She isn't usually self-conscious about her body, especially not around Jocelyn, but this old swimming costume tugs in a way that is just slightly strange. She has had enough of old thoughts for tonight.   
Maggie meets Jocelyn just inside the doorway. She holds a towel in one hand and she has dressed in soft trousers, a loose shirt and cardigan.

'That was quick.'

Jocelyn shrugs. She ignores Maggie's outstretched hand and instead spreads her towel wide and slides it round Maggie's shoulders, moving around with it until she is behind her, wrapping Maggie in her arms.

Maggie hmms her thanks. This towel is soft and fluffy and Jocelyn is breathing into her hair, rubbing her arms through the thick fabric.

'There is wine,' Jocelyn murmurs, so close to Maggie's ear that she moans. 'And, I have cooked!' 

'Wonders will never cease!'

Jocelyn releases her. 'Go and get dressed. It will be ready.'

-

Maggie strips her swimming costume in the bathroom. Briefly she considers binning the old thing, but throwing things out seems too much of a crime in this house. She opens the airing cupboard and finds Jocelyn's there. Some things never change. 

Some things do though, she reflects, a smile stealing across her face. She is glad that Jocelyn got changed first or she might not have been able to keep her hands off her, and it would be a shame to pass up the chance of Jocelyn cooking for her. Later, though... Maggie's thoughts fly ahead of her, setting off a deep curl of pleasure in her belly. 

Maggie eyes the pile of clothes she discarded earlier. They feel too formal for tonight, too much a reminder of her week in London. She is almost too relaxed to care about getting dressed at all, but that's not practical. She pulls on her knickers again but can't be bothered with the bra, buttoning her shirt loosely over bare skin. The trousers really are too much effort and, with a sudden brainwave, she decides she will put on her pyjama bottoms instead. They are in her travelling bag which she dumped in the garden so she scoops up her remaining clothes, deposits them on a chair in Jocelyn's room and pads downstairs. 

-

'Oh.' Jocelyn, coming to meet her, stops dead in the doorway to the dining room.

'I'm just...' For a second Maggie thinks something is wrong. Then she reads the desire in Jocelyn's wide eyes swaying gait as she steps towards her. 

'I was just going to fetch my bag,' she murmurs as Jocelyn steps right into her personal space.

'Dressed like that?' There is a wonderful lilt in her voice which sets Maggie's pulse thrumming. She reaches under the hem of Maggie's shirt and slides her hands round, exploring bare skin in the small of her back and down over the fabric of her knickers. 'You really shouldn't.' Her voice is too smooth and between it and her fingertips teasing the skin at the back of her thighs Maggie has to swallow before she replies.

'Oh? And why's that?' She is aware that her own voice is too high, too rough, in her attempt to play along.

Jocelyn steps back, eyes her up and down with a flick of her gaze. 'Because you look far too good to share with passersby.' She turns on her heel and heads out through the sitting room to the garden. Maggie is still smirking over the purr in Jocelyn's voice when she returns with her bag. She holds it out with a mock flourish.

'Thanks petal.' Maggie tugs it open and digs through the contents. 'I just want... ah, here we are.' She pulls on her pyjama trousers swiftly and straightens. Jocelyn pretends to pout. Maggie laughs outright at her. 

'Oh come on.' Maggie holds out her hand, entwining their fingers and pulling Jocelyn away from her slouch against the door-jamb.   
'You can have me later,' she whispers theatrically. 'Now, for this famous cooking.'

'It's only pasta and salad.' Jocelyn waves her free arm dismissively, but she leads Maggie through to the dining table. Then, out of the corner of her mouth, she mutters, 'I'll hold you to that.'

-

Over dinner they talk. Jocelyn asks about Maggie's journalism conference and Maggie regales her with the most ridiculous bits of gossip she picked up. Jocelyn talks about her case preparation work, sharing some cautious plans. Maggie, in return, expounds some ideas for developments at the Echo that the conference sparked off for her. They have a heated debate about the best route from Fleet Street to Waterloo station which involves them each rearranging the tableware in turn to draw imaginary maps on the tablecloth. 

'There, see!' demands Jocelyn, leaning forward to draw the pepper pot along a complicated route between two side plates, round the salt cellar and a water glass, along an unused knife and finally bangs it down on a crease in the cloth. Pepper scatters liberally around it.

'Bugger.'

Maggie laughs at her. 'I think we'd better call that one quits.' She holds up an admonishing finger. 'I do not concede. I just think that for the safety of your china and whatnot we'd better find a safer ring to fight the next round in.'

Jocelyn purses her lips, narrows her eyes. She can't help a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth though and in a moment it is softening her whole face.   
'You're right.'

Maggie's eyebrows shoot up.

'About moving!' Jocelyn insists. Maggie knows she will never willingly lose an argument but can't resist teasing her. 

'Why don't we go through to the sitting room?' Jocelyn stands and Maggie follows her example. It's not like Jocelyn to leave the table strewn with dirty dishes but when Maggie hesitates for a second Jocelyn takes her hand and leads her through.

'Leave it, it will keep.' She twinkles a smile at Maggie. 'Let's be reckless in our old age.'

Maggie flops on the sofa and draws Jocelyn down beside her.  
'Oi less of the old, thank you.' They both chuckle.

-

Maggie rests her head back and her eyes flicker. She feels languid and lazy, a good meal in her stomach and very good wine in her veins. Her muscles thrum from the swimming, a pleasant sort of ache that carries a sense of achievement. It is very quiet, but in a safe way. Jocelyn shifts beside her and leans her head against her shoulder with a sigh. The fabrics of their clothes rub against the sofa. A clock ticks sedately. Maggie tilts her head to look down at Jocelyn and her gaze grows fond. 

'When did I get so lucky?' 

'I'm the lucky one,' Jocelyn replies quietly. She sits up and Maggie realises that she has turned serious. 

'I've been selfish. Silly. Proud. I've wasted so much time.'

Maggie pauses. This wasn't what she expected, not now, this moment. She's not sure she has the energy to deal with all of it right now. But if Jocelyn wants to talk about it... She chooses her words carefully.

'It was complicated. You weren't ready. I can respect that.'

'I'm a very lucky woman that you were there when I was.' Jocelyn meets her eyes frankly. She is sitting so close that Maggie can feel the warmth of her leg pressing against hers, see the flecks in her eyes, the way her lips move the second before she speaks. 

'I never thanked you for that.'  
So close that Maggie can smell the pool on her skin, in her hair, almost hear her tongue moistening her lips. Some things, she thinks briefly, are better said with bodies than with words, are too awkward and personal to put into words without descending into cliché. Some things are too heavy for conversation and too important to be serious about. 

'How about thanking me now?' She leans her forehead against Jocelyn's, murmurs the words with her eyes firmly on Jocelyn's lips. You have to turn them into something else or they're too scary.

Jocelyn huffs. 'You are incorrigible.' Maggie can hear the hitch in her breath though, the rise of desire in her voice even as she tries to sound severe. 'No wonder journalism is going to the dogs if that's the best sort of line you can come up with.'

'Still.' Maggie holds her ground. Her eyes flit up to meet Jocelyn's.

'Still.' Jocelyn quirks her lips.

Maggie kisses her. Her mouth opens to Jocelyn's. Softly, their lips move together. Then firm. Long slow kisses. She won't tell Jocelyn how much she has missed this. It's ridiculous and Maggie refuses to be ridiculous. Jocelyn twists and presses against her and she moves to meet her. Jocelyn's hand cups her jaw. She wraps an arm around Jocelyn, pulling her closer so their bodies are warm and soft together. Through the thin fabrics of their shirts she can feel Jocelyn's breasts against her own. She realises she wasn't the only one who didn't get dressed properly. They both push into the contact. Jocelyn gasps. 

Maggie turns her head to check the windows. The curtains are closed. Good. Good thinking. She turns back into Jocelyn's waiting kiss, but her hands move. She slides her left arm round under Jocelyn's, smoothing over her breast, and she wriggles her right arm between them. Her fingers seek out buttons. Jocelyn, busy mouthing kisses along Maggie's jaw, takes a moment to absorb what Maggie is doing. It is only at the flap of material as Maggie spreads both their shirts open that Jocelyn notices.

'Ohhh,' she breathes as Maggie pulls her tight and skin meets skin, breasts meet breasts. Maggie feels her heart surge. Oh she has, she has missed this. Jocelyn clings to her, breathes in her ear, shifts against her in tiny movements that send a buzz of sensations tingling all over Maggie's skin. Jocelyn's flesh, her skin, is soft, but her grip is fierce, the weight of her is solid, her leg presses hard against Maggie's. Jocelyn is full of urgency. She nudges Maggie back against the sofa, hands grasping at her thighs, and Maggie can feel her nails through the thin cotton of her pyjamas. Maggie slides her hands up Jocelyn's waist, spreading her shirt wider, tracing the sides of her breasts, slipping round into the hot space that opens between them when Jocelyn arches into her touch. Maggie watches Jocelyn's face as she moves her hands, catches a nipple between finger and thumb, traces circles round the other. She treasures the expressions that flit across her face, the way her lips twitch, parting as each breath comes a little quicker than the last, almost humming. Jocelyn pushes full against her, trapping Maggie's hands between them. 

Maggie splays her fingers, cups her hands, trying to feel as much as physically possible. It feels wonderful but it's awkward too and Jocelyn obviously finds the same thing. She moves slightly then pulls back, moves again. Maggie slips her hands down to Jocelyn's hips. Her left elbow gets stuck against a cushion. Jocelyn tries to get closer again but humphs impatiently. All at once she shoves herself out of Maggie's reach and stands.

'I'm not saying I'm too old for this, but I can think of more comfortable places we could be doing it.' Her hair sticks out in messy kinks and waves. Her eyes are keen. She holds out her hand. Maggie levers herself out of the sofa and takes it.

They walk like that out to the hall where Jocelyn pauses to flick off a couple of lights, check the front door is locked. She hovers at the foot of the stairs. It's the routine, Maggie realises, breaking the routine that makes this difficult. Every other time she has stayed here they have gone through the same set of little rituals before even starting upstairs for bed. She winds her free arm around Jocelyn's waist, rests her hand on her belly. Reassurance. Ease. She doesn't mind which way Jocelyn takes this – whether she has to go back and run through her usual evening habits, or if she decides to break all of those for once. She knows what she would prefer, of course, but precision and ritual have always been a part of Jocelyn, one of the many traits Maggie finds endearing. She can wait.

But Jocelyn turns and kisses her. She grips her hand more firmly and guides her up the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the part where it gets distinctly Mature, and starts to wander off into my headcanons. You have been warned.

In her room, Jocelyn holds her shirt over her chest with one arm while she closes the curtains then Maggie switches on the lamps. Jocelyn crosses the room and holds her by her hips. She's got that serious look again, but she is smiling too, her private smile, like she is sharing a secret.

'You know, I've been wanting you all week.' 

Maggie catches her breath. She will never cease to be amazed by this woman. The way she can floor her with honesty like this.

'Come here.' Her voice almost trembles as she envelopes Jocelyn in a hug and a hungry kiss. Jocelyn's hands move with intent, making short work of Maggie's shirt, tugging at her pyjama trousers. Maggie laughs from sheer joy in Jocelyn's enthusiasm.

She slips her hands under the waistband of Jocelyn's trousers and groans when her fingers meet only skin. Her eyes widen.

'Good job you didn't tell me that earlier,' she mutters in Jocelyn's ear, 'I'd never have got through dinner.' 

It's Jocelyn's turn to chuckle. She looks deliciously smug. Maggie dips her hands further, causing Jocelyn's eyes to flutter, her head to tip back. Smugness dissolves into pleasure. 

'Bed,' Maggie says firmly. 

'Yes.' It's more of a hiss than a word but Jocelyn brings herself back to reality. She shrugs out of the shirt and wriggles out of her trousers, draping them over the back of a chair while Maggie dumps the last of her clothes on the floor. Together they climb into bed.

-

Maggie stretches under the covers, relishing the cool smooth sheets on her skin, the chance to extend and relax her muscles. 

'This was a very good idea.' She rolls onto her side, away from Jocelyn for a moment, for the sheer pleasure of curling her back. 'I mean, your sofa's not the most uncomfortable place I've ever...' She glances over her shoulder. 'But I think I am getting too old for making life deliberately difficult.'

Jocelyn reaches for her, slides against her, tucks her knees in behind Maggie's, her hips in behind her bottom, wraps her arm over her so her palm spreads flat across her stomach.

'Oh?' She tugs slightly, fitting them tighter together. 'And where was the most uncomfortable place you've ever...?' Her voice lifts on the last phrase, teasingly. She trails her hand lower, marking the insinuation. Maggie feels the heat that has been building inside her all evening intensify. She shifts against that hand but Jocelyn holds her firmly. 

'In a bender,' Maggie answers, fixing on a memory that springs quickest to mind. 'With sleeping bags. On bloody hard frozen ground in the middle of winter.'

'A bender?' Jocelyn's incredulity is almost comic, but Maggie can't laugh because Jocelyn's fingers are tangling in the hair between her legs and it's hard enough to control her breathing.

'At Greenham,' she manages.

'One of those tent-things?' Jocelyn slides a finger further in and Maggie groans.

'Hmm?' Jocelyn insists, mercilessly demanding an answer.

'Yes.' Maggie cants her hips towards Jocelyn but she withdraws the finger, just barely touching her. Maggie decides she had better finish the story while she can still speak. 'Things got even more interesting when some dozy army bugger came stomping about with a torch.' 

'Sounds fascinating.' Jocelyn's tone is wry. Not as fascinating as what you're doing right now, Maggie thinks, but manages not to say out loud. 

'Long time ago.' Maggie rocks her hips, straining for more contact. Jocelyn presses a kiss to her shoulder and Maggie can feel her smile. There is a new confidence in this teasing that thrills Maggie. It's the kind of assurance that Jocelyn displays in court, turned intimate and focused entirely on her. The carefully calibrated gestures that she performs for a jury are transformed into equally precise movements over Maggie's body. She is playing her, demonstrating all the specialized knowledge she has picked up over the past few weeks, enjoying, Maggie can tell, how good she is at eliciting her reactions. Maggie grins shamelessly, revelling in Jocelyn's enjoyment as much as she is. 

Jocelyn draws her other hand up between Maggie's thighs, nudging them ever so slightly apart. Maggie feels two fingers tantalise around her entrance. Jocelyn's voice, that voice that can charm juries, sweet talk judges, fool witnesses and flay them, that voice is now purring in her ear.

'There?' Her fingers flutter. 'Or do you want...?' The fingers press in for a second. Maggie arches back against them. Her 'yes' is guttural, more a groan than a word. 

'Hmmnmm?' The questioning little noise vibrates along Maggie's earlobe and she gasps. Jocelyn has a whole repertoire of these sounds that she can infuse with all sorts of meanings and subtleties. This one sends new shivers down Maggie's spine. She swallows, knowing Jocelyn is going to demand an answer. 

'Yes.' Her words come out on separate gasps. 'Inside.' She hardly knows her voice. 'Please.'  
Jocelyn chuckles. More vibrations. And her tongue outlining the shape of her ear. Maggie whimpers but this time when she arches into Jocelyn's hands, Jocelyn pushes back, sliding those two fingers inside and focusing her other hand on Maggie's clit. 

Maggie gives a low moan. She is too far gone for anything more than absorbing the sensations. The press and tightness of Jocelyn's fingers inside her, the sweat sticking Jocelyn's breasts to her back, the tension gathering low in her belly, the jerk and push of her hips, the tingling heat building and building under those two hands, rising through her. Maggie curls in on herself as the feelings reach a climax that shudders through her. She's not sure what noise she's making, gasping and trying to form words. Jocelyn's arm holds her round the middle again, her other hand grasping the inside of her thigh, her body shielding Maggie's. She places slow, reverent kisses on Maggie's ear, her shoulder, the back of her neck.

-

'So...' Jocelyn trails her hand up from Maggie's stomach and strokes her breasts. 'Better than in a bender?' 

Maggie groans and hides her face in the pillow for a moment. Laughter bubbles up inside her. She rolls over slowly, in stages, until she is face to face with Jocelyn. They share a tender kiss. 

'Oh yes,' Maggie replies with gusto. She touches Jocelyn's arm. A thought occurs to her.  
'What about you?' She raises her eyebrows. 'What's the most uncomfortable or, what was it... awkward place you've ever done it?'

'Oh.' Jocelyn looks utterly nonplussed, as if the idea that Maggie might turn the tables on her hasn't occurred to her. Maggie is quite tickled. Surely she should have been expecting this. Jocelyn drops her eyes. Takes a deep breath. She looks to the ceiling, eyes flicking from one spot to another as if trying to work something out. 

'Come on. Quid pro quo.' Maggie pokes her gently in the side. She is curious now. 

Jocelyn looks at her, considering. 'On... a... table.'

Maggie blinks. She's not quite sure what she expected but that wasn't it. 

'What kind of table?' The question is out of her mouth before her brain can stop it. It's partly that natural instinct with her to always ask, always want to know more.

'A... err... dining table.' Jocelyn can't seem to decide if she is proud or ashamed of this. Maggie finds it quite exciting. Her imagination shades in a fancy dark wood table to the mental picture she is already painting.

'Who with?' But that's too much. Jocelyn frowns.

'Nobody you know.' She checks herself and refocuses on Maggie. 'Like you, it was a long time ago.' A smile starts to creep into her eyes. 'And it was damned uncomfortable.'

'Oh the things we do when we're young.' 

'Ha.' Jocelyn's exclamation pulls Maggie back from the danger of getting nostalgic. 'The things we do now that we're old,' she continues, her voice heavy with suggestion. On this, Maggie has to concede defeat.

'I wouldn't swap it,' she admits. 'Speaking of which...' she murmurs, leaning in for another kiss. Jocelyn responds immediately, pressing in to her. 

-

Maggie cards her hands through Jocelyn's hair, kissing down the delicately lined skin of her neck when she tilts her head back. She hitches herself down the bed to keep kissing. Jocelyn rolls onto her back with a sigh of pleasure and Maggie has to prop herself up to close her mouth around Jocelyn's left nipple. Jocelyn's hands come up to Maggie's head and stroke her hair back from her face. Maggie swipes her tongue in a long line down between Jocelyn's breasts and makes a decision.

They haven't been together for long enough to automatically know what the other wants, or to assume they know, and they haven't really talked about sex up until now. Rather, they have negotiated the give and take of pleasure through half questions, reading body language and tone of voice, eye contact and all that. It is refreshing to feel Jocelyn's developing confidence in her willingness to put words to their actions and it gives Maggie the security to be more open too. 

'How would you feel...?' She pauses, wondering how she means to put this. Jocelyn lifts her head to meet her eyes. Oh get on with it woman, Maggie tells herself. 

'How would you like me to lick you?' There, frank and forthright is her style, better than going all round the houses to say something. Jocelyn's eyes are huge. Her lips part but she doesn't seem to be able to find the words to answer.

'I'd like to taste you,' Maggie says simply. 

Eyes locked with Maggie's, Jocelyn nods. She moves her arms to prop herself up a little, watches as Maggie returns to the path she was previously tracing and continues down, kissing now. The bottom of her ribs, her belly button, the soft place just below. Jocelyn heaves a breath. Maggie checks back with her, meeting her eyes again. Jocelyn tips her head forward an inch. She urges her on with a hnnnmm sound. 

Carefully, Maggie pulls herself up, crawls over Jocelyn's leg, encouraging her to open and make room for her. She nudges back the covers and settles herself, slides both hands up the back of Jocelyn's thighs and under her buttocks, lifting her slightly. Maggie leans in close and breathes in the smell of her. Desire ripples through her again. Jocelyn moans as Maggie's breath tickles across her. Maggie starts with a kiss, pressing her lips down first then using her tongue to seek out Jocelyn's wetness. She circles and licks, can't contain a moan as she gets the taste of her. Then she traces a line up the full length of her, spreading her wetness. Jocelyn gasps. When Maggie looks up, she is trying to watch. 

She returns her attention to using her mouth and for several minutes all she notices is the different twitches of Jocelyn's hips, and the way her gasps melt into tiny cries, peculiarly Jocelynish sounds that catch in the back of her throat and break out every now and again when Maggie moves her tongue just so, or sucks just there. When Maggie chances a look up again, Jocelyn's head is thrown back, she can't see her eyes, her stomach heaves, her fingers snatch at anything and nothing. The noise she makes when she feels Maggie raise her head is needy and desperate. Maggie feels a powerful surge of joy. She dips her head again and licks broadly, filling her mouth with the taste of her. She finds the exact spot that make Jocelyn's breath catch louder still and focuses, sucking and tonguing and nibbling until she feels Jocelyn's climax in the tightening and surging of her body, hears it in the rise of her voice, tastes the change.

-

Maggie frees her hands from under Jocelyn and pushes herself up to study her. She is beautiful and abandoned, limbs sprawled, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths, a fine pink staining her cheeks. Maggie finds her arms are trembling and she hauls herself up the bed to collapse beside Jocelyn, throwing one arm over her. She can feel the motion of Jocelyn's breathing against her, under her arm. Gradually it slows, steadies, sinks into a smaller rhythm.

'Well,' says Maggie, eventually. Jocelyn turns her head on the pillow, looks at her with soft eyes. Maggie gives her a quick kiss. 'That certainly made up for lost time,' Maggie says lightly.

She is thinking of four nights in a hotel bed, a week without even seeing Jocelyn, not even being in the town, able to glance up at her house and know that she is close by. But Jocelyn's face clouds and Maggie suddenly hears a weightier meaning in her words. Lost time. They still haven't talked about fully. Silently, she curses herself. Being tactless on purpose, for the sake of a story, is one thing, but thoughtlessness is not acceptable. Maggie prides herself on her sensitivity, even if she is choosy about who she thinks deserves it.

'I meant, this week love, that's all.' She rubs her hand up Jocelyn's arm, brushes her cheek with the backs of her fingers. Jocelyn still looks distant. Her sadness shows subtly on her face, a slackness that only Maggie's years of experience of watching her allow her to read. Maggie uses her thumb to sweep more firmly along Jocelyn's cheekbone, as if she can will her into smiling by pushing her skin in the right direction. 

'I missed you. This week.' Maggie's voice is warm. She hadn't meant to let that out but she has to apologise somehow. Jocelyn refocuses on her, comes back to the present moment. She looks surprised. Maggie's heart contracts. When is she going to stop being surprised at the way Maggie shows her love for her? It's very sweet. They have known each other for so long that there's a lot Jocelyn takes for granted about Maggie, about their relationship. That's just Jocelyn. But Maggie has always saved her softest side for her partners. Even though she has not always been the most present or dedicated girlfriend in the past, she has always tried to share a special level of openness and warmth that would surprise any of her colleagues and acquaintances used to the brash working Maggie.

Jocelyn brings a hand up to Maggie's face, almost mirroring her. She traces the strong line of her jaw.

'I... I missed you too.' A smile kindles in her eyes. 'Even the interruptions.'


	4. Chapter 4

'I missed you too.' A smile kindles in Jocelyn's eyes. 'Even the interruptions.'

'You'd be bored to death without my interruptions.' Maggie squeezes her tighter. 

They breathe together in silence for minutes. Jocelyn's fingers play idly against Maggie's arm. Maggie feels herself sinking, sleep reaching for her. 

'I'd forgotten you were at Greenham.' Jocelyn's voice anchors her back in the world.

'Mmm?' It's all she can manage at first, her eyes refusing to open, but Jocelyn continues.

'You told me a little about it once but I had completely forgotten.' She sounds sad, surprised. 

Maggie sighs and shifts her head to lean against Jocelyn, find some patch of skin to press a kiss to. Forget Greenham. The idea seems impossible to her, it is such a part of what formed her, who she has been ever since. Along with many other things, but Greenham was special. Such energy and hope, such strength that she found amongst the women there. And a great healing after the horrors up North. It's not something she thinks about all that often, it's just always there. 

'Why should you?' she murmurs. It's not the right question, not exactly what she means to say but her mind is still sleepy-slow and forming loose connections with her mouth.

'I... don't know,' Jocelyn says slowly. 

Maggie can sense the reason though, in the deeper, more intuitive part of her that never quite shuts down. It's about their relationship, about the lost time that Jocelyn is dwelling on, about intimacy and connection. They have both lived through too much to know everything about each other, even after their long friendship, even with their new bond. Maggie can accept this, knows that new knowledge will come gradually. That what they have to learn is a living encyclopedia of minutiae and a museum of personal histories. It's enough to take up a lifetime. And that delights Maggie.

She turns her head so that she can breathe, finds it resting in the crook of Jocelyn's arm. But if there's one thing she does know about Jocelyn, it's that she hates not being in command of the facts. That's what this is about.

'Tell me something I don't know about you.' Maggie wriggles herself a bit comfier, settles in. 'And I'll tell you something.' She is not sure if she can actually feel Jocelyn pursing her lips or if she imagines it but she is sure that's what she is doing in the silence that follows her invitation. 

Maggie waits. She is not sure what she is going to tell about herself but she is sure something will come to her. Memories flit through her mind as the silence grows. Something from her childhood, or a story she reported on, perhaps, how she got that scar, or something bad about herself – the worst things she has ever done, or...

'The first time I saw you,' Jocelyn's voice is low, smooth. 'You were interviewing local people about the new Police Station, when they knocked the old one down.' 

Maggie's face creases in a frown. When was that? 

'You were talking to May, do you remember her? She had been a cleaner there, in the old Station, all her working life.' 

Maggie racks her brain. May. The name rings a bell. She never forgets a name.

'I didn't hear what you asked her but she started crying, sobbing, right there in the street.'

Maggie remembers now. The old woman, older looking than she probably was, bursting into tears like that. What was it she had asked her? Something innocuous about what she thought the new building would do for Policing in the town, something like that. 

'I thought you were going to tell me something about you, not about me.' Maggie starts to sit up, puzzled. For a moment she catches a glimpse of Jocelyn's face in profile, her eyes dark, staring distant at the ceiling. But Jocelyn pulls her back down, soothes her with stroking hands.

'I was buying a newspaper. I saw you from across the harbour. For a moment I thought it was your fault she was crying. And I hated you.'

'But...'

Jocelyn sighs. 'I'm telling this all wrong.' She gathers herself, Maggie can feel it. She fights the urge to sit up, to try to read the rest of this odd little story in Jocelyn's eyes.

'She used to clean for my Mum.' There's a hint of the strain it costs Jocelyn to talk about her. Maggie places a hand on Jocelyn's chest.   
'She was kind to me.' 

There is another long silence. Maggie tries to remember the day, the woman, properly. Jocelyn can clearly see it all, sharp as a scene on screen, but to Maggie it is murky. The questions she was asking everyone, the lines in the woman's leathery skin, the smoker's yellow fingers that clutched her wrist, her own warm shock of sympathy when tears suddenly swamped her.

'You dropped your notebook and your pencil. To hug her. I was about to storm over and sweep May away from you, curse you eloquently, offer to take her home. But you dropped everything you had, right there on the pavement, to put your arms around her.'

Jocelyn pauses again. Maggie is intensely aware of her breathing, chest rising and falling under her hand. She feels as much as hears the catch in it just as Jocelyn speaks again.

'And that is when I started falling in love with you Maggie.'

'You hadn't even met me.' Maggie can't help lifting her head now. Jocelyn is still staring at the ceiling.

'No.' Maggie sees her lips move, almost a smile. 'I didn't understand how I felt at first. For a long time. Even when I knew you.' She turns her head now, meets Maggie's eyes for the first time since she began talking. 'You see, I didn't recognise it.'

'You mean?' Maggie feels the gears in her brain click round slower than they should, part of her already understanding.

'I'd never been in love before.' Jocelyn says it almost lightly. 'Not...' Maggie sees her start to qualify the statement, then stop herself. 'Never.' 

'Oh sweetheart,' Maggie breathes. She folds herself into Jocelyn, wraps her in her arms, kisses softly her arm, her shoulder, into her neck. 'Oh sweetheart,' into her hair. 

'You're very special Maggie.' It's said so quietly that Maggie could almost think she imagined it, except that she would never imagine anyone saying that, can't believe that she is. Special. Jocelyn is special, with her fierce intelligence and absolutism, her startling beauty, her grace. She's just Maggie, quite ordinary really. And she can't think why she deserves this. This place in Jocelyn's heart. She can hardly get her head around it. She has loved and loved again, throughout her life. In different ways, yes, but always truthfully, always with all that she could give at that time. She asked for this, something she didn't know about Jocelyn, but now she is not quite sure what to do with it. 

'Say something,' Jocelyn murmurs. Maggie senses her lips hovering close for a kiss and tilts her head to meet them, offering feelings she hasn't yet found the words for, buying herself time.

-

'You think I'm strange.' Jocelyn pulls back. 

Maggie ponders this. Yes, her first reaction had been incomprehension but, already this makes a kind of sense to her.  
'I think you're you,' she says sincerely. 

Jocelyn narrows her eyes, studying her. After a moment she nods. Accepting.  
'I suppose you've been in love dozens of times.'

Maggie laughs. Put like that it sounds a little silly but she is not ashamed of her life, her choices. She shrugs a little deprecatingly. Jocelyn is not sneering though. Her voice is soft, her face interested, gently curious.

'When was the first time?'

Maggie stares. 'Now you're asking.' She breathes out hard through pursed lips as she casts her mind back. 'The first time I fell in love was when I was sixteen.'

'No!' It's Jocelyn's turn to be uncomprehending. 

'Stacy Godber.' Maggie raises her eyebrows. 'I fell for her badly. Hopelessly. She was two years older than me and she'd left school. I used to go into town every Friday afternoon to sit in the same cafe where she'd go when she got paid.'

'But surely that was just a crush.' 

'One time she dropped her umbrella, I picked it up for her and we got talking for ages.' Maggie laughs a little at herself. But her voice is serious. 'It felt like love. It was real. For me.'

Jocelyn strokes her face. Maggie blinks and closes her eyes, feels those delicate fingers trace across her cheekbones, her jaw, her eyelids. When she opens her eyes again, Jocelyn is gazing at her fondly.

'Didn't you ever have that?' Maggie asks, her turn to be curious now.

'I thought I was in love once.' Jocelyn answers. 'At university. There was this boy I went out with for over a year. He asked me to marry him in the end. That was when I realised, it wasn't real. I didn't want him like he wanted me. I'd been pretending to myself. To everyone.'

Maggie finds she wants desperately to ask about other women. She has never known Jocelyn to be with anyone, male or female, during whole time she has known her but, at the same time, she has always given off an air of experience. They only ever dodged around conversations about sex and relationships over their years of friendship, but certain comments Jocelyn has made, odd phrases she has used or understood, things she has known not to ask, have all built up this impression in Maggie's mind. Maggie realises that she has gone quiet whilst trying to think how best to phrase the question. When she refocuses on Jocelyn it's to find her regarding her with an amused glint in her eye. Bugger. Maggie is too old for blushing. 

'Well go on then, seeing as you're so good at mind reading woman.'

'I've... mostly been with women since then. I was never interested in relationships though.'

'Too busy?' There's an edge to Maggie's question that she doesn't expect to be there. Some things still hurt, it seems.

'Yes.' Jocelyn takes the implied accusation squarely. 'And later, too in love with you.'

'Really?' Maggie turns full on her side to look at Jocelyn as she tries to absorb this. She must have been in at least three relationships since she gave up any serious hope of Jocelyn facing up to the spark between them. She can't imagine being alone so much. She's always loved sharing things with someone, loved loving, in every way.

'Yes, really.' Jocelyn confirms.

'That must have been painful, sometimes.' Maggie is probing, she knows, but she can't help herself. She is still trying to wrap her head around all this. Jocelyn answers her with a look. 

'Right. Well.' Oh sweetheart – she doesn't say it again. Some things you can only move on from because there is no going back to change the past. She finds Jocelyn's hand though and squeezes it tight. 'My turn, I suppose.'

And for a moment she is stumped. Words always come to Maggie. She's not used to them walking out on her. But what can she share to match this admission? She rolls away, her turn to examine the ceiling plaster.

Painful. Yes Maggie knows a thing or two about painful love too. You can't love the world without getting hurt by it, she learnt that early, and you can't love personally without getting hurt sometimes too. And, from this vantage, Maggie can see how deep those hurts can run. Scars that tear through your life, pulling other experiences into them, cutting off sensations, still itching years later.

'I gave up on you,' she confesses. 'And largely that was because I realised you were never going to say anything. But partly...' Maggie sweeps a hand across her forehead, an automatic gesture to push hair out of her eyes even though it isn't really bothering her. 'I didn't want to get hurt.' Again. 

But she stops, can't quite bring the word onto her tongue. Swallows.

'Hurt... again?' Jocelyn is too good, of course. Knows people too well. Knows Maggie.

'Again.' Short and almost sharp. There. She's said it. Maggie lets her breath go and releases a sigh she hadn't noticed she was holding.

'It was a long time ago.' And she doesn't want to talk about it. 

'Even then, it was a long time over and done with.' But she started this. 

'It just... stuck with me, I suppose.' She had wanted to give Jocelyn something important. 

'I was quite young. Searching, certainly.' Now she has to make good on that. 

'She was everything I admired, everything I found attractive, and everything I couldn't be. All rolled up into one.' She wouldn't have told Jocelyn this, even a week ago.

'I fell head over heels. And we were together for a while. But she didn't.' Even a few hours ago.

'She... let you down? Disappointed you.' Jocelyn is reaching for understanding. If Jocelyn can go this far in opening up, Maggie is damned if she'll be left behind.

'Yes I suppose she did.' Maggie's body remembers the sensation of an awful hole opening up inside her, though her mind is cloudy on the details now, the words exchanged, the exact order of betrayal. Jocelyn tuts close above Maggie's head. Her hand is warm on Maggie's cheek, firm, tender.

'Saying “I'm over it” sounds trite.' Jocelyn tuts again and kisses Maggie's hair. 'But I left it behind a long time ago. Except...'

'...You never forget,' Jocelyn finishes for her. 

'I was lucky.' Maggie turns back in towards Jocelyn. 'I could talk about it. It all happened in and around the time I spent at Greenham, I had people who supported me, poured wine down my neck and listened to me wail over a camp fire half the night if I needed it. You never had that, did you?'  
'  
No.' They are incredibly close, staring into each other's eyes, barely needing to speak above a whisper. 'My private life has always been utterly private. I do find it hard to talk about. Even now.'

'Well you're making a good go of it.' Maggie is proud of the progress Jocelyn has made lately. She starts to smile but finds her mouth stretching into a yawn. 'Oh dear, sorry.'

Jocelyn's eyes twinkle with amusement. 'You should sleep.'

'Mmm.' Maggie tries to keep her eyes fixed on Jocelyn's.

'I liked swimming with you again.' She blinks. 

'Even if it did get us into deep... conversations.' Blinks again, slower. Realises her eyes have stayed closed.

'Mmm,' she tries again. 'Can I come swimming with you again tomorrow?' Her jaw is slack, she hardly gets the last word out. Jocelyn has to lean in to catch what she says.

'Of course.' She chuckles. 'Of course you can, my love.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically: here are my headcanons, let me show them to you. Thank you if you've made it this far.
> 
> Big thank you to alwayssomethingelse for cheerleading and encouraging me to keep writing this even when I thought it was too cheesy for words.


End file.
